and the closer I get to it the farther away it feels.
Then I’m there, flying through it, slamming the door shut, locking it. Only then do I lean against it, sliding to the floor, taking deep gulps of air, slowing down my heart rate, pushing my perspiration-matted hair off my face, and bending my head between my legs, feeling for the reassuring shape of my inhaler….
Three year-seven girls are standing in front of me, Jessa McKenzie in the middle of them.
“Someone used up all the water,” Chloe P. tells me.
“Celia’s got matches,” the other one, whose name I don’t know, says in a hushed voice.
I get up slowly, ignoring them, dragging my body up the stairs, but they are still there beside me.
“Where’s Hannah?”
I stop and look into Jessa McKenzie’s eyes and suddenly I see someone…something that I haveseen before. I feel an anxiety I can’t explain.
I push past them and escape to my room and when it’s securely locked, I walk to the basin and lean over it, nausea rising in me.
I want to see Hannah. I’m not sure why but I find myself repeating the need over and over again. Because it’s like a voice whispering in my head telling me that there is something so unnatural about her absence. It’s like the last line of Hannah’s Yeats poem.
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
At lunch I’m forced to sit with the other House leaders in the food hall as part of our “official” prefect initiation. The Principal makes a speech about unity while Richard whispers to the leader of Hastings. She giggles at something he says and they look at me until she passes it on to the person next to her. Richard has the rest of the House leaders eating out of his hand, except for Ben who is hoeing into his lasagne with a passion. I know that I need to act quickly before there’s a coup and as I glance around the table I realise, once again, that my only potential ally is a drop-kick moron withtomato sauce all over his face.
“Ben, make contact with the Cadets. Tell them I’m ready to make a deal.”
Ben looks up, in the middle of wiping the plate with his bread, his eyes wide with shock.
“Me?”
“Him?” Richard exchanges glances with the others.
“You,” I say.
“What are you doing, Taylor?” Richard asks in that voice of his with the warning in it.
“I’m asking my deputy to do what deputies do. To negotiate,” I say politely, standing up.
Ben mouths deputy to me like it’s a dirty word and then Raffaela walks by and he mouths deputy to her as well and even she looks a bit worried.
“And by the way, Murrumbidgee and Hastings House,” I say, looking at both the girl and Richard. “I read the Little Purple Book last night. Written in 1986 by the first of the UCs. The leader, I think, referred to himself as Chairman Meow. Pretty bad handwriting, but it’s all there, including the fact that no House leaders can fraternise with each other in a romantic sense. Don’t know why but probablybecause it takes away the competitive edge.” I look at Ben. “Let’s go.”
Raffaela follows us as well. I don’t say a word until we get outside.
“Where were you last night?” I ask her.
“I got town privileges. My best friend’s brother’s best friend’s teammate—”
“Get to the point.”
“—had a message for me. The Townies are ready to meet us. Tonight.”
The halfway hut where negotiations take place with the Townies is dark and musty. The flashlights offer little light and no one dares sit down for fear of sitting on the unknown. In front of us there are three Townies. I only recognise Chaz Santangelo, far too handsome for his own good, but at least he doesn’t have that mean, hard, feral look that Townie leaders from the past have had. Santangelo’s sidekicks are typical hoons. Is there a manual out there that says Townies have to have mullets? Raffaela beside me is fidgety and I figure that they are all waiting for me to begin negotiations.
“So let’s make
Then I’m there, flying through it, slamming the door shut, locking it. Only then do I lean against it, sliding to the floor, taking deep gulps of air, slowing down my heart rate, pushing my perspiration-matted hair off my face, and bending my head between my legs, feeling for the reassuring shape of my inhaler….
Three year-seven girls are standing in front of me, Jessa McKenzie in the middle of them.
“Someone used up all the water,” Chloe P. tells me.
“Celia’s got matches,” the other one, whose name I don’t know, says in a hushed voice.
I get up slowly, ignoring them, dragging my body up the stairs, but they are still there beside me.
“Where’s Hannah?”
I stop and look into Jessa McKenzie’s eyes and suddenly I see someone…something that I haveseen before. I feel an anxiety I can’t explain.
I push past them and escape to my room and when it’s securely locked, I walk to the basin and lean over it, nausea rising in me.
I want to see Hannah. I’m not sure why but I find myself repeating the need over and over again. Because it’s like a voice whispering in my head telling me that there is something so unnatural about her absence. It’s like the last line of Hannah’s Yeats poem.
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
At lunch I’m forced to sit with the other House leaders in the food hall as part of our “official” prefect initiation. The Principal makes a speech about unity while Richard whispers to the leader of Hastings. She giggles at something he says and they look at me until she passes it on to the person next to her. Richard has the rest of the House leaders eating out of his hand, except for Ben who is hoeing into his lasagne with a passion. I know that I need to act quickly before there’s a coup and as I glance around the table I realise, once again, that my only potential ally is a drop-kick moron withtomato sauce all over his face.
“Ben, make contact with the Cadets. Tell them I’m ready to make a deal.”
Ben looks up, in the middle of wiping the plate with his bread, his eyes wide with shock.
“Me?”
“Him?” Richard exchanges glances with the others.
“You,” I say.
“What are you doing, Taylor?” Richard asks in that voice of his with the warning in it.
“I’m asking my deputy to do what deputies do. To negotiate,” I say politely, standing up.
Ben mouths deputy to me like it’s a dirty word and then Raffaela walks by and he mouths deputy to her as well and even she looks a bit worried.
“And by the way, Murrumbidgee and Hastings House,” I say, looking at both the girl and Richard. “I read the Little Purple Book last night. Written in 1986 by the first of the UCs. The leader, I think, referred to himself as Chairman Meow. Pretty bad handwriting, but it’s all there, including the fact that no House leaders can fraternise with each other in a romantic sense. Don’t know why but probablybecause it takes away the competitive edge.” I look at Ben. “Let’s go.”
Raffaela follows us as well. I don’t say a word until we get outside.
“Where were you last night?” I ask her.
“I got town privileges. My best friend’s brother’s best friend’s teammate—”
“Get to the point.”
“—had a message for me. The Townies are ready to meet us. Tonight.”
The halfway hut where negotiations take place with the Townies is dark and musty. The flashlights offer little light and no one dares sit down for fear of sitting on the unknown. In front of us there are three Townies. I only recognise Chaz Santangelo, far too handsome for his own good, but at least he doesn’t have that mean, hard, feral look that Townie leaders from the past have had. Santangelo’s sidekicks are typical hoons. Is there a manual out there that says Townies have to have mullets? Raffaela beside me is fidgety and I figure that they are all waiting for me to begin negotiations.
“So let’s make
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